


crumble time and space

by Aegwynnn (Ogawdy)



Category: Warcraft (2016)
Genre: Age Swap, It got angsty, M/M, Slow Burn, Time Travel, game universe, set during WotLK, slowburn, taking both movie and game timelines and putting them in the blender with a dash of "fuck it", the boys have too many damn feelings and im running out of adjectives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 05:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ogawdy/pseuds/Aegwynnn
Summary: When a younger Anduin Lothar appears in the middle of Stormwind's throne room, stark naked and screaming, it's up to a now old Khadgar to figure out how to send him back to where (or rather - when) he came from.Or: the age swap/time-travel AU nobody asked for





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Aight. Let's do this. I'm posting a WIP.
> 
>  **Context:** This story is set in the year 27 (Rise of the Lich King). Varian has just returned to the throne, he’s whole once again, after the whole Lo'gosh thing. Anduin W. is around 12 years old. Anduin L. has been dead for 21 years.
> 
> I have no idea where this story is going to go, so let's just all jump in for a ride!  
> Hope you enjoy :)

* * *

“You mean to say he appeared out of thin air? No smoke or pretty lights or any kind of other disturbance?”

“No,” Varian pinched the bridge of his nose. “He just… materialized.”

“Naked? On the floor?” Khadgar's eyebrow rose quizzically.

“Yes,” Varian groaned.

“Well, what did your mages say?”

“He's not wearing a disguise, and there wasn't anything unusual in the throne room that might've explained it. They couldn't explain it. That's why I sent for you.”

Khadgar hummed. “You did well. I always said these people knew nothing about the intricacies of the arcane. And you have no champion you could assign to this?”

“Has the current situation with the Scourge somehow escaped your notice?” Varian asked sarcastically. He sighed then, looking exhausted. Khadgar gave a falsely apologetic smile, and went on:

“Well, did anyone try interrogating him?”

“He was too distraught. He immediately started screaming and thrashing about the room. We've had to bind and silence him and he was led to the barracks.”

Khadgar frowned.

“And then you didn't think to just… _ask_ him who he is?”

Varian slammed his hand down, anger flaring.

“Light damn you, do you think me daft? Of course we did! I asked for an immediate interrogation.”

“Well what did he say?”

“That’s the thing. Now he's just refusing to say anything. Apparently, he looks pretty traumatized, and I don't blame him, but I can’t deal with that right now.”

Varian frowned. He was glad the Archmage was here to help him unravel this mystery. He had way more important matters to attend to than look after some loony with teleporting issue.

“Look,” he told Khadgar. “I just want to be able to send him back to wherever he's from. Could you talk to him? He's most probably a mage who messed up his transportation spell and is too ashamed to say it.”

“And you think having the most powerful mage on Azeroth interrogate him is going to make him feel any better?”

“I don't know, you have had to mess up in your youth. Tell him one of those stories, it'll loosen him up. Please, I can't take care of that right now. Just find out where he's from and send him back there. So we can all forget everything about this little… incident.”

Khadgar held back a smile. He refrained from telling his friend that the first time he'd teleported was with the legendary Lion of Azeroth in order to go stop one of the most powerful demons of all times in Karazhan. Sure, he'd messed up when learning magic, but that was usually small things, like making the library explode, or turning his teacher into a sheep (it was totally an accident), not.. appearing butt naked in the middle of Stormwind's throne room.

“Alright,” Khadgar told King Varian. “I'll go see him. He's in the barracks?”

“Thank you,” Varian breathed out. “Yeah, he's in the back.” 

Khadgar sighed. He doubted he could be of any real help. If this man had refused to talk, then he didn't know how he could make him. But the whole incident seemed so bizarre to him that he couldn't help but be intrigued.

He made his way to the barracks, the guards recognizing him and letting him go through. He stepped in front of the very last cell in the far back and caught sight of their mystery man.

His arrival did not go unnoticed, as the man stood up, looking at him suspiciously. They had given him some old clothes to wear and they hung awkwardly on his lean body. He was clean shaven, and his hair was short, and his eyes…

He would know those eyes anywhere, anytime.

Khadgar stopped breathing. His heart missed a beat. Confusion, anguish, hope, outrage all swelled up in his chest at the same time, battling each other. He knew his stupefaction had not gone unnoticed, as _those_ eyes narrowed and _this_ brow creased as _this_ man stared at him. His expression was so familiar and Khadgar’s heart squeezed painfully. 

_He’s not wearing any disguise,_ Varian had said. That had to be impossible. Khadgar had always known the mages that the king surrounded himself with were as competent as their masters in Dalaran had been, incapable of even the most basic arcane magic or handling a ten-year-old Guardian novitiate. Khadgar cast a quick spell to identify other sources of magic in the room but it came up empty. His own senses seemed to confirm this, as the air around him was perfectly still, a sign he knew no magic was being used anywhere near. Everything seemed in order, except his sight. Because if his eyes did not fail him, and this man truly looked the way he did, then Khadgar was currently faced with Anduin Lothar. And that was simply impossible.

Out of all the conflicting emotions currently raging war on Khadgar’s control, anger won.

He blinked into the cell, startling its occupant. He scrambled backwards against the farthest wall, looking more frightened than Khadgar remembered ever seeing him. No, not _him_!

“Who are you?” he yelled, grabbing hold of the prisoner’s collar and pulling.

He had a moment of dazzled satisfaction as the other’s feet lifted slightly up the floor, even as he still stood taller than Khadgar. He pressed his knuckles into the man’s throat, watching as his eyes grew wider and wider and he choked, feet scrambling on the floor. Tears were welling up in _these_ eyes, and it shook Khadgar to the core. This man was lean, obviously strong and exercising regularly. His body was already one of a warrior, designed to wield a sword and modelled to fight. And yet Khadgar, who used to be such a scrawny bookworm, now knew he could overpower him in one blow - no - less than that. He already had. This man was _weak_ compared to the horrors Khadgar had battled ever since...

He released him at once. The stranger gasped for air, quickly swiping his cheeks as if ashamed. Khadgar swivelled round, strangely out of breath himself, and only turned back around once he had regained his composure.

Despite having already been subjected to it once, the man’s appearance struck him as violently as it had the first time. For a surreal moment, it was as if he really was facing Anduin, despite the jarring differences between this man and the man Khadgar so fondly remembered. He took a deep steadying intake of air. He was not _him_. Snap out of it. _Funny how the mind can play such tricks on you,_ he thought bitterly. He squeezed his hands into fists, willing them to stop shaking, and he asked - quieter this time, refusing to meet the man’s eyes:

“What are you?” for he refused to believe that a man could look so similar to another, especially not the man Khadgar had known, and admired, and loved-

Silence met his question. Steeling himself for the shock, Khadgar forced himself to look up and into the blue eyes. They looked so terrified. Khadgar gritted his teeth, forcing himself to see past appearances so he could get to the bottom of this.

“Hu?” he prompted. “Are you a, a demon? Or a ghost, or a, an illusion sent here to _torment_ me? Or-”

A sudden, terrifying thought crossed Khadgar’s mind and he fell silent. _Scourge,_ a voice whispered in his mind. “No,” he said aloud, “no, no, no.” They didn’t look like that. They didn’t look so healthy, so strong, so… alive. 

But then what? How could one explain that right now, Anduin Lothar, of all men, was facing him, looking years younger than Khadgar remembered him ever being, and with a strange kind of innocence he had never known in him. How could this be? What could explain it?

The thoughts swirled in Khadgar’s mind, twisting, overlapping, until he couldn’t take the other’s silence anymore.

“Answer me!” he screamed, not hiding the desperation he felt slowly overwhelming him.

“I don’t understand!” the man finally cried out.

Silence fell. Both their heavy breathing filled the room, and it was as if their confusion had materialized itself around them, permeating the air, making it heavy and damp, uncomfortable.

“I don’t understand anything that you’re saying,” the man repeated, looking scared out of his wits.

Khadgar tried not to let his satisfaction at the fact he’d managed to elicit a response from him show. He stared the man down, the man who looked more like a boy right now, curled as he was on the cot, back flat against the wall in an effort to get as far away from Khadgar as possible. It broke a tiny piece of his heart that Khadgar had thought frozen forever.

Very quietly, Khadgar asked: “Then what? Who are you and how did you end up here?”

Immediately, the man averted his gaze, teeth coming to gnaw at the lips. _Guiltily,_ Khadgar thought. _What do you have to be guilty of?_

Khadgar breathed heavily, feeling the shock recede and with it all of the rage that had overcame him just moments before, being replaced with growing frustration.

“They told me you weren’t saying anything. I fail to see how it would help your case.”

Silence. Khadgar reigned in his annoyance, and tried a new tactic.

“So let me make this clear to you: for now, you’re a criminal who has, somehow, managed to break directly into the throne room during a very important, very confidential meeting between the King and his counselors. As such, you are guilty of trespassing and spying, and shall be condemned to death,” Khadgar lied.

This elicited a noticeable full body shiver in the man, yet he still refused to look at or speak to Khadgar.

“Frankly,” Khadgar said, “I don’t care what happens to you. You won’t tell us anything, fine, we’ll just have to assume the worst: that you really are a spy, and we really can’t have that. So go ahead - keep silent. See how you like it when they cock the gun that’ll blow your brains-”

“Alright!” the other screamed.

Khadgar gasped, realizing at once that he had himself been imagining the scene he’d described. He felt his stomach churn at the thought of Anduin facing the barrel of a loaded gun, condemned, guilty, a traitor. Once more, Khadgar had to forcefully shake these thoughts out of his head. This man, no matter how much he looked like him, was not Anduin.

They both stared at each other, both recognizing in the other their own confusion, their pain, although they came from entirely different places. This man, whoever he was, was lost, and afraid, and had seen things he would never get over.

“We’re in Stormwind,” the man said. “It looks different,” he faltered. “But it’s Stormwind all the same.”

Khadgar frowned. “Yes,” he decided to humour him.

“I want to see the king,” he demanded firmly.

“You have,” Khadgar scoffed. “Remember? You appeared, naked, I was told, in the middle of his throne room!” Khadgar threw his arm up in the air, feeling the frustration building up.

“No,” the man shook his head, “that wasn’t the King.” There was a hint of hesitation in the man’s voice, as if he was trying to convince himself of something he already knew was true. He was suddenly very pale, and he fell heavily onto the cot. He suddenly lifted his head, and stared at Khadgar with a haunted look.

“What happened to Llane?” he asked.

 _Llane!_ A small bundle of hope started beating deep down in Khadgar’s chest, and he could not squash it, no matter how much he tried. _No, it can’t be…_

“Who are you?” he asked once again, hoping that this time the man would answer, and dreading the answer.

The man wrung his hands, anguish written in every single one of his movements, “My name is Anduin,” he said. “Anduin Lothar.”


	2. Chapter 2

Khadgar's vision refocused slowly, as if he was coming out of a dream. He stared at the young man in front of him, who still looked so scared. The name, _Anduin Lothar_ floated in his mind, sinking and coming back up to the surface like a message in a bottle, lost at sea. 

"And we're in Stormwind, aren't we?" the man continued. "It looks different but it's still Stormwind. I recognized the throne room. I tried telling the guards, I tried telling them who I was but no one listened, they didn't listen!"

"That can't be," Khadgar whispered, more to himself than to the other, who was looking at him even more confusedly than before.

"Don't you know who I am?" he asked, sounded seconds away from becoming hysterical.

Khadgar ignored him in favour of pacing the small cell. Four steps to the back wall and four steps to the cell door, and again and again and again. _It can't be_ , he repeated in his head. "That's impossible. He's clearly not Scourge, nor is he some kind of magical manifestation. I would know. And the resemblance... striking. But it's simply impossible. How could one explain-" He stopped, turning at once to stare at - he couldn't help but call him that, now - Anduin.

"But _you_ know me," Anduin said, hope pasted on his face. Khadgar's chest ached.

"If I assume you're not lying," he started, deciding to ignore that last statement.

"I'm not -" Anduin tried interjecting.

"That's really not my point," Khadgar interrupted him. "If you're not lying, and you really are Anduin Lothar, then you will know this. How did you meet the Guardian Medivh?"

Anduin gaped at him. "I'm sorry?"

"Just answer me," Khadgar stated, gaze hardening. Inside of his mind, he was building up the walls to keep himself safe from the onslaught of emotion he knew he would feel in a matter of seconds, should the answer be the one he was expecting.

"I... I met Medivh at the faire. The Darkmoon faire. He was a lonely boy my age. Back then, my only friend was the King's son Llane and he was older than me. So I went to speak to Medivh. And we became friends."

Khadgar's heart constricted painfully. This would be a detail only few knew. Llane, Taria, Medivh, Khadgar because he had been told this story countless of times... and Anduin.

"How exactly did you become friends?"

"He won the darkmoon cub for me."

Khadgar felt his legs become weak and he fell heavily onto the cot, right next to Anduin. He grabbed his head with both hands, twisting the short white hair. Despite having prepared himself for it, he couldn't help the small whimper that escaped him as the rush of memories and feelings overcame him.

Anduin used to love telling this story – it was one he thought of with content nostalgia, one of the few memories of Medivh that hadn’t been tainted by fel after his death. The cub had been hard won by collecting as many Darkmoon tickets as needed. Anduin had been allowed to bring it back home, even to keep it for a while, as long as it remained the size of a puppy and not that of the ferocious jungle tiger that it actually was… The day he had had to let it go had been a sad day, but the friendship it had created between Medivh and Anduin survived the loss of the cub.

No one except dead people could know this story – and yet this man had been able to answer Khadgar’s questioning without hesitation. _This doesn’t make any sense,_ the thought floated around Khadgar’s anguished mind. He pressed his palms into his eyes, trying to keep himself from completely losing it.

A hand landed softly on his shoulder and squeezed. He lifted his head, crossing Anduin's gaze. His eyes...

"It's really you," he whispered. He raised a shaky hand, holding it just inches away from the smooth, unscarred face, showing only the beginning of aging around the eyes and lips, so different and so familiar all the same. He didn’t dare touch it, and instead let his hand fall down.

"You do know me," Anduin stated, almost accusingly.

Khadgar gave him a sad smile.

"I do,” he told him, “or rather I knew someone like you.”

“What do you mean?” Anduin knitted his eyebrows.

“It means you look like him, and act like him, and have the same name as him, but you are not him, because our Anduin Lothar is dead, and has been for a long time.”

Anduin's eyes widened impossibly, and Khadgar felt a wave of indescribable sorrow wash over him.

"What year is it?" he asked.

Khadgar frowned. "Year 27."

"27?" Anduin gaped.

"Yes. Twenty-seven years after the first war. How old are you?” Khadgar asked, suddenly suspicious.

“Thirty,” came the answer, and oh, he was so young.

Thirty. When they had first met, that day in the barracks, the year the dark portal was opened and the Horde unleashed on Azeroth, Anduin had already been forty years old. Khadgar, back then, was only twenty. Remembering it now only made Khadgar feel very old, even as his body now aged backwards after Medivh had cursed him to old age before his death. Still, the weight of the years on his mind was as heavy as his body had felt immediately after that final battle. Sargeras and Gul'dan had been but one event in the cascade of wars and catastrophes that had followed the opening of the dark portal. When Anduin had been thirty, and Khadgar barely ten, the world had been a much different place, even if already, hidden and unnoticed deep inside Medivh's soul, Sargeras was planning Azeroth's downfall. 

And suddenly it all fell into place: why he looked so much like Anduin, and wore his name, and _was_ him, except so much younger, so, so _young_. Khadgar understood it even if it didn't make sense. He knew Anduin was refusing to tell him something, but even without that piece of information, Khadgar knew: this was not the Anduin he had known, but he _was_ Anduin, without a shadow of a doubt, who had somehow found a way to transcend time and space, and found himself... here. Now. 

But that meant that this Anduin was completely unaware of what the future held for him. For all of them.

"There is much," Khadgar stopped to think of how to word it, "that you don't know. In time, I will tell it to you. Anduin-"

"But you do believe me, then?" Anduin cut him off. He was jittery, eyes twitchy, hands trembling. "Even though I. Well, _I_ died. Didn't I?"

Khadgar shook his head and stood up. Anduin watched him, wary.

"I don't know," Khadgar said. "I believe that you are from the past. Or rather, that you are now in the future. Except- the Anduin I knew had never found himself in that same situation. So it's not _your_ future." He stopped, running his fingers through his hair. "It's all just so-" He sighed, unable to think of a correct way to express what he was thinking.

Anduin scoffed, and the sound made Khadgar turn to stare at him as if he was seeing a ghost. The comparison wasn't so far off.

"Unbelievable?" Anduin offered.

Khadgar looked at him for a long minute, trying to read the expression on Anduin's face as terror was replaced by a cold, distant irony. This look was so reminiscent of the constant persona that had donned his older counterpart that Khadgar found himself wanting to erase it forever so that it may never come back.

"Yes," Khadgar said, dragging his gaze away. "It is." He took a moment to recollect himself, feeling distressed. Eventually, he asked, without looking at Anduin: "Do you have any idea how you ended up here?"

A long silence answered him. Khadgar turned to look at Anduin, but found he was staring at the wall, refusing once again to look at Khadgar. _Interesting,_ he thought. He was biting at his lower lip again, a clear sign of guilt which Khadgar had already noticed earlier. Anduin knew something, but he wasn't telling. He would not be able to get the truth out of him so easily. Besides, Anduin looked exhausted, Khadgar noticed sheepishly. There were more important matters than figuring out how exactly he’d managed to teleport through time, such as getting him more comfortable. And that started by getting him out of this cell.

Khadgar was about to call the guard when he realized at once that he had never introduced himself. He stepped forward and extended a hand. Anduin looked at it warily.

"My name is Khadgar," he said. "I can only imagine how distressing this situation must be for you. I'm sorry for the rude manner with which we have greeted you. We are... slightly on edge, these days."

Anduin stared him with a wondering look. Khadgar's train of thought faltered as he realized this was an expression that had never once crossed his Anduin's face when he'd still been ali-

Khadgar cleared his throat and lowered his gaze bashfully, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes. Anduin had still yet to shake his hand. Khadgar thrust it forward, insistent.

"We've automatically assumed the worst about you. But with the information currently in our reach, we simply have no reason to distrust you. I apologize," Khadgar added.

Anduin smiled, too tightly to look genuine. "I understand. I've been.... on edge too." He grabbed Khadgar's hand firmly, and the heat seeped through Khadgar's leather gloves. A fleeting thought passed through Khadgar's mind, wishing he'd removed the glove. He decided not to dwell on it.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he told him.

Anduin looked surprised. “You can do that?”

Taken aback, Khadgar let out a loud laugh. “Of course I can. Watch,” he added with a wink.

He blinked to the other side of the locked cell and turned around. He felt a surge of satisfaction at the bewildered expression Anduin was now staring at him with. He had blinked into the cell earlier, but Anduin had been far too troubled to realize.

“How did you do that?” he exclaimed.

He remembered how wary of magic Stormwind had been just thirty years ago. Anduin, once he had gotten past his suspicion of anything magical had turned out to be quite fascinated by it. Khadgar used to talk his ear off about every single new detail he had found in a book. Although he pretended to be annoyed, Khadgar knew he found it as interesting as he did. He was glad to see that this younger Anduin had the same fascination.

Khadgar hailed a guard and ordered the immediate release of the prisoner, on order of the King. he knew Varian would not hold it against him to have done so without asking him first. He had, after all, entrusted the prisoner to him. And after he told him the exact identity of their prisoner, he was sure Varian would want him to be treated as best as they could.

He thought about teleporting the both of them straight into the Keep but thought better of it. On the one hand, it would spare Anduin the sight of the city as it was nowadays, but on the other, he remembered how much his older counterpart hated the feeling of being teleported. If he was the same, it was bound to end up yet another traumatic experience in a day that had already had its quota.

For the third time, he offered his hand to Anduin, who accepted it curiously. He gave it a small squeeze meaning to reassure him. It seemed to do the trick, as he could see Anduin relax immediately. Smiling, he stirred him out of the prison and into the streets.

Khadgar did his best to look as unapproachable as possible. Everyone knew him, and some sent him strange looks as he passed by them in a rush, pulling an unknown man who looked as scared as he looked lost. Fortunately none tried to stop him and they reached the Keep soon enough.

Khadgar led Anduin to one of the guest bedrooms, one that faced the gardens behind the Keep and the sea which spilled far beyond the horizon. He figured Anduin would not like to see his city spread out, so familiar and yet so foreign, filled with people he knew nothing about and who had no idea who he was… who he really was.

So much had changed in forty years. Sometimes, Khadgar himself didn’t recognize the world around him although he had lived through all the events that had shaken Azeroth to its core. Yet, some days he woke up and still expected everything to be as they had been, Stormwind never once destroyed, the world consisting of a single continent, Lordaeron holding strong… and Anduin still by his side.

These were all things Khadgar had thought lost forever. And yet, he now found himself standing at the threshold, looking at a younger, healthier Anduin and he was oh so very much alive. The similarities were as painful as they were a balm to soothe aching old wounds in Khadgar’s soul.

Khadgar couldn’t help noticing all the little quirks that further confirmed to him that this was Anduin, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking around. This Anduin lacked the assurance that had been his alter ego’s prime quality and worse flaw as he further shielded himself in it until no one could reach him. Despite his young age, however, you could already see the first scars that grief had left on him.

Feeling guilty of having observed him silently for so long, Khadgar said: “You should rest.”

Anduin started, the expression on his face so familiar it warmed Khadgar’s heart even as his throat constricted. He had no idea how he would be able to deal with being allowed these undreamt of moments with a man he had lost years ago. But he knew that, whatever his feelings might be, he would have to do all in his power to return Anduin to his own time. Perhaps, with the knowledge of what was to come, he could do better than how they had done the first time.

Khadgar smiled, knowing how awkward he must have looked, but Anduin smiled back, and that alone made it all a little bit better.

“You shall dine with the King,” Khadgar suddenly decided. Anduin was about to protest, but Khadgar countered: “It is your right, and I insist. Besides, it will give us the opportunity to discuss in further details the circumstances of your… misplacement.”

Khadgar did not miss how Anduin became instantly flustered. He seemed to combust on the spot, turning bright red. Khadgar had not often had the chance of seeing such a reaction in his Anduin, although he had made it his goal to cause it more than once. It eased the tightness in his heart to know that this Anduin was this much more relaxed than his counterpart had been.

It was on this bittersweet thought that Khadgar once again enjoined Anduin to rest, for he looked exhausted, and took his leave.


	3. Chapter 3

Khadgar closed the door behind him and took a moment to compose himself before going to meet with Varian.

He found him in the war room, staring at the board, alone.

“My king,” he greeted.

Varian started, and not for the first time Khadgar noticed how many mannerisms Varian had taken off his uncle. Varian gave him a tired smile.

“I am your friend, I would hope, before I am your king.”

“Of course,” Khadgar placated him.

Varian straightened up and stretched, looking worn out.

“So?” he asked.

Khadgar sighed, wondering how exactly he was to put it. He’d obviously found out something about their “guest” but he had no idea how Varian would react. His hesitation, however, brought concern to Varian, who squinted at him.

“What is it?” he asked warily.

Khadgar braced himself.

“I’ve found out who this man is, but it is… hard to believe.”

“How so?” Varian asked, confused.

“First things first, I can assure you that he poses no threat to you or the safety of the kingdom… or the planet, for that matter, although I am not sure what repercussions his appearance will ultimately have. For us, I think the effect will be barely noticeable, even if his mere existence is a shock. But for him, who knows what it’ll change.”

“Khadgar,” his King interrupted him, “you’re not making any sense.”

“I apologize,” Khadgar said, “but I don’t want to rattle you.”

Varian glared at him.

“I hardly think whatever it is will be able to _rattle_ me, Khadgar, really, after all we’ve seen.” He was silent for a minute, staring at him, looking worried again. “But seeing you now, it does seem like a rather terrible truth. Just tell me,” he pleaded.

Khadgar yielded.

“He’s Anduin Lothar.”

Varian burst into laughter, a loud, bellowing noise that sounded more than a little fake. It soon devolved into a fit of cough. Khadgar stood indecisively, not knowing whether he needed to come to his King’s aid or just wait it out. In the end, he did not have time to make up his mind, because Varian sobered up suddenly, falling eerily quiet. His face was expressionless, giving nothing away.

“Varian,” Khadgar called softly.

“Is it true?” the king asked.

Khadgar nodded slowly. “It is, yes. I wouldn’t lie to you, and certainly not about this. And I’m sure you know that if he was an imposter, I would’ve found out by now.”

Varian looked at him with compassion and a tinge of sadness, which Khadgar knew to be his own. Varian had been quite attached to his uncle, a bond grown even stronger in the years between Llane’s death and Anduin Lothar’s own demise. He’d looked up to him, and wanted to become him, and in many ways today reflected who Anduin had been. Khadgar was so proud of him for that.

“How?” Varian asked then, disbelievingly.

“I don’t know exactly how yet. He wasn’t very talkative, and as he looked dead tired, I took the liberty to bring him to a guest suite. He’ll sleep until dinner. We shall question him then.”

Varian shook his head, a look of awe on his face.

“I didn’t recognize him,” he admitted.

Khadgar softened at the words, feeling a surge of affection for his King, whom he’d been considering as a man for so long now he had forgotten he had known him as a boy once. He’d only been a teenager when Anduin had died, and he’d had to take his rightful place as King of Stormwind and leader of the Alliance. He knew Varian remembered his uncle fondly and missed him dearly. No one had expected him to die so young, despite them having been at war for so long. At the time, Anduin had seemed immortal. Nowadays, he was but a memory to most, and a painful and bitter one to Varian and Khadgar.

Khadgar moved closer to the king and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly.

“He’s not the Anduin Lothar we knew,” he told Varian. Even as he said so, his chest tightened painfully, but he knew he had to say it, both for Varian’s sake and his own. “Whatever happened to him to make him appear here today, it created a different timeline: if Lothar had met us at thirty, he would have told us.”

“A different timeline?” Varian’s brow furrowed. “How is that even possible?”

Khadgar scoffed. “Anything’s possible, Varian, I think that much has been proven to us many years ago. The dead are rising, portals to other planets are opening, and the world is much bigger than it once appeared to be. People traveling from one time to another, one universe to another… it’s really the least improbable thing I’ve witnessed thus far.”

Varian smiled wryly. 

“I guess you are right. Have you any idea how to help him? Or will he be stuck here forever?”

Khadgar sighed, suddenly preoccupied.

“I will do everything that I can to find a way to fix this, but I am not familiar with this kind of spells… I will have to do research, and that could take months.”

Varian put a hand atop Khadgar’s which still layed on his shoulder.

“I know you’ll do whatever it takes.” His smile wavered and he asked: “How are you feeling, Khadgar?”

Although he could tell Varian was genuinely concerned, Khadgar plastered a fake smile on his lips. He knew Varian would probably read right through it but he also knew Varian wouldn’t push. He didn’t need to worry him with this. As he had reminded him earlier, he already had lots to deal with with the Scourge. Anduin was Khadgar to take care of, and he would, no matter how hard it was bound to get.

“I’ll be fine,” Khadgar said cheerfully. “Now, I will leave you to your kingly business, as I attend my own much less exciting one.”

Varian chuckled, and he answered on the same tone, even as a soft tired smile stretched on his face.

“Don’t be so sure of that.”

Khadgar winked at him as he exited the room and he heard Varian’s laughter as the door closed. The silence of the corridor enveloped him like a shroud, and Khadgar had to hold back a sigh. He had no idea how he would deal with the current situation, but he knew one thing for sure: he would not rest until Anduin Lothar was safely returned to his own time.

 

***

 

The room he had been led to was sparsely furnished, obviously destined to welcome foreign dignitaries to Stormwind. There was a bed, a chest, a table. A door led to a small room where the bath was kept - a luxury Lothar did not expect. Unfortunately, he had no way of asking for hot water. 

He sat on the bed, gathering his thoughts. 

He had been shocked to hear his name uttered by that stranger. The look of awe and hope on his face had scared him - he had looked to be in such disbelief to see him. A different Anduin Lothar had lived in this universe and he'd died.

Everything was so different here, and yet so familiar - it was Stormwind, but it wasn't _his_ Stormwind. So much must have happened. It made Lothar’s head spin just to think about it.

He felt it coming before he actually recognized the symptoms. A great feeling of doom rose in his chest, shrouding his heart and lungs and it squeezed. He started trembling and catching his breath. Gasping for air, Anduin clutched at the fabric of his tunic, hopelessly looking around. The world narrowed around him and spun, the unfamiliar walls crashing into him. He tried to stand, to reach the door in order to call for help, despite knowing no one could help. He knew he just had to wait it out, focus on his breathing, try to ground himself into reality. His chest hurt and heaved, and his heart thumped, feeling too large for his rib cage to contain.

He fell to the ground, latching onto the feeling of the cold biting into his palms. He pressed his hands against the floor and closed his eyes. He let the cold climb up his arms and invade his chest. It slowly released his lungs from the vice encircling them. He took a shuddering breath, relishing how each inspiration filled his lungs and freed them a little bit more. 

When the knock resounded, he had calmed down considerably, although his breathing was still a bit raspy. The sound sent a wave of renewed anxiety but he braced himself, casting the panic aside as he struggled to get back on his feet. He opened the door in a brusque movement and he flinched. The soldier on the other side didn’t even blink, obviously trained not to recognize real threats from slightly panicky guests.

“The king will be seeing you now,” she said.

Anduin stared at her for a moment, his brain struggling to catch up. He finally remembered that Khadgar had told him he would dine with the king. Just how long had he been sitting on the floor?

“Oh, right. Let me just,” he swallowed, looking down on the too large clothes they had given him at the prison, “get changed.”

The soldier nodded, and turned around, posting herself next to the door. He waited a second until it was clear she would wait for him here, standing at attention. 

“Okay,” he whispered.

Changing into better fitted clothes felt like getting into warm water after being out in the cold. He felt instantly better, despite his brain still feeling fuzzy around the edges and his skin feeling clammy. He would take advantage of the water room adjoined to his bedroom later that evening. He wished he could have done that before meeting the King, but it couldn’t be helped. Despite, he was pretty sure it would have been wasted, considering how he was sweating at the mere thought of meeting this man that ruled this strange and different Stormwind. He took a deep breath before opening the door and striding out. He nodded shortly at the soldier to indicate he was ready to follow. He knew the way – the Keep really hadn’t changed – but it felt nice to follow someone.

He was led into the dining room and immediately noticed that he was alone. The table had been set for three. Surely Khadgar would be joining them. Anduin felt relieved at the thought. He didn’t know whether he could have faced this king on his own. Even if he had only met Khadgar a few hours ago, he felt more comfortable having him by his side. His warrior training was telling him not to trust anyone, but his gut feeling knew that he could put his trust in the mage.

He was wondering whether he should sit down to wait for the two other men, when a side door opened, and a young blond boy appeared. He looked alarmed for a moment, before curiosity got the better of him, and he fully entered the room.

Anduin watched as the boy got closer, unsure how to react. Who was he? Where had he come from? Was he even allowed in here?

“Hi,” the boy said, once he had gotten close enough to his liking.

“Hi,” Anduin rasped in return. He cleared his throat and looked around the room but it was decidedly empty. “Uhm,” he said, turning his attention back to the boy.

The kid was staring at him with large, curious eyes and he looked perfectly at ease. That wasn’t good. He should be a little bit more wary of strangers found in the king’s dining room.

“What are you doing here?” Anduin eventually asked, hoping to find out more about the boy’s identity.

“What are _you_ doing here?” he shot back cockily.

Anduin opened his mouth to answer but had to close it as he had to admit the kid had a point.

“I’m to dine with the king,” he decided to say, “as I am his guest.”

The boy bounced on his heels excitedly. “I didn’t know we had a guest!” he exclaimed. “What’s your name?”

Anduin swallowed, feeling more uneasy by the minute.

“Hm, Anduin,” he introduced himself, figuring the smartest move would be to humour this little kid until someone got here.

The boy’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “Really?” he grinned. “Me too!”

He grabbed Anduin’s hands and led him to the table. He went willingly, mind reeling and feeling as if he had been run over by a tribe of murlocs. The kid took him to a chair and sat him down, and started chatting animatedly.

“That’s crazy that we have the same name. My father gave it to me because his uncle who died was called it and it was to remember him and honour him. I’m told my uncle was a great warrior but I don’t like to fight. Do you like to fight? It’s really nice to have a guest here because we don’t have those often. Actually, it’s been a while since my father dined with me so I’m really happy right now. Where are you from?”

Anduin looked at the boy when he suddenly stopped talking, looking at him expectantly. All of that information was slowly making its way to his brain and falling into place. He smiled at the boy, hoping that it didn’t look too strained.

“I’m sorry. Who is your father?”

The question could have seemed strange but it only made the boy puff up with pride, as he squared his shoulder and proclaimed loudly:

“My father is King Varian Wrynn, king of Stormwind and leader of the Alliance!”

Anduin blinked. He felt as if all the breath had been knocked out of him. For a second, he thought he might have been having another panic attack but this felt different. He was entirely still, staring at the space to the left of the boy’s face. The silence felt very loud as it buzzed in his ears and he could see little Anduin’s face becoming more and more worried as time passed on, impossibly long.

The sound of a door opening made them both jump to their feet and turn around. Anduin’s heart pounded really hard against his ribcage and his mouth felt dry.

He recognized the man who entered as the same one that had been present in the room when he had appeared. The yelling and confusion that had followed hadn’t made for him to truly be able to look at him, but he had caught a glimpse of him. He was unmistakably the king. Anduin’s heart missed a beat.

Varian’s eyebrows knitted together as he saw his son next to their guest. His mouth was set in a hard line and when he spoke, his tone suffered no protestation.

“Anduin, go back to your room. Dinner will be brought to you soon.”

Although he pouted, the boy looked far too impressed to dare speak against what was clearly an order.

“Yes, father,” he said quietly.

He left the same way he had come from. He cast a disappointed but resigned look towards Lothar before closing the door soundlessly behind him.

Lothar turned his attention back to the king, who was now staring at him with an open face. He was not hiding his wariness, but he was also displaying the practiced welcoming attitude of a host towards a guest.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I had sent a servant to keep my son in his room, but it seems I was too late. I hope he didn’t bother you.”

Anduin couldn’t answer. He was totally tongue-tied, taking in the appearance of the man. His brain could not comprehend what it was seeing. He was a stranger, yet he was all too familiar. Everything about him, his face, his voice, his stature, Anduin could recognize and yet he could also tell that he had never this man before in his life. But there was no doubt whatsoever in his mind that this man was his nephew.

Khadgar appeared behind Varian and he stopped short when he appraised the two men staring at each other in awkward silence. He gently cleared his throat to make his presence known and closed the door that Varian had left open. He looked as if he was going to talk but thought better of it, preferring to let the two men get over their shock on their own.

Anduin eventually found his voice again, and when he spoke, he sounded as dumbstruck as he felt.

“…Varian?”

A pained smile stretched on the king’s lips and he nodded.

“So it is true. You are Anduin Lothar.”

“You look so much like your father,” was the next thing that escaped Anduin’s mouth.

Varian tensed up, his face immediately closing off, and Anduin knew he had messed up. Behind Varian, Khadgar didn’t bother hiding his wince.

The silence stretched on, becoming more and more uncomfortable with each second.

Anduin bit his lip.

“You called him Anduin,” he said, hoping to break the awkward.

Varian’s gaze flickered to him. The mention of his son seemed to warm him up a little and bring his mind away from painful events. Although, if the sad way with which he regarded Anduin now, it seemed the name only carried its own painful memories.

“Yes,” Varian answered hoarsely. “After…”

“Me,” Anduin understood.

The silence that followed felt more solemn, as they all took in the impossible situation they found themselves in. In Anduin’s world, Varian had barely just been born. Anduin could still feel his tiny weight as Llane had carefully lowered him in his arms. He had been beaming with joy and pride at his first-born son. He had looked so happy…

Feeling suddenly light-headed, Anduin fell back into the chair behind him, where the young boy had sat just moments before. It all came crashing down on him at once and he felt too shaken to even be able to sob. He felt a hand touch his shoulder and a low voice speaking near him but he couldn’t make out the words. Suddenly, a cold, hard thing was pressed against his palm and brought to his lips. The water washed down his throat suddenly and he welcomed the feeling gladly. He gulped down a least half the glass before it was pulled away from him. 

His surroundings were becoming clearer. Soon, he realized that Varian had sat at the end of the table and was looking at him with concern. Then, he registered the close proximity of another body and he jerked away.

The sound of the glass shattering on the floor achieved to bring him out of his stupor. Varian and Khadgar had jumped to their feet, posed as if to defend themselves. They must have faced many threats to be reacting like this for a broken glass, Anduin thought distantly. Already, however, Varian had relaxed and Khadgar had made the shards disappear with a muttered spell.

“Alright?” Varian looked at Khadgar, who nodded.

Khadgar went open the door and give a short order. He then went back to take his seat across from Anduin as Varian himself sat down. Almost instantly, three servants entered and deposited steaming plates in front of each of them. Anduin suddenly realized how hungry he was.

“Eat,” Varian enjoined him.

Anduin did not wait to be told twice and he dived into the food, not caring that the two other men did not touch their plates at all as they watched him. All too soon his plate was empty. At one point they had started eating at a considerably slower pace, but they lowered their cutlery when they noticed he was done.

Dropping his hands to his lap, Anduin swallowed past the lump in his throat. He raised his head and saw Varian staring at him.

“I know how upsetting the situation must be for you,” Varian said. “It is for us, too, although in a considerably lesser way. We will answer any question you have,” he added, his gaze hardening, “but you have to answer ours.”

Anduin bit his lip. A feeling of intense exhaustion was slowly taking hold of him, but his brain was still buzzing with questions he already knew the answer to but felt the need to ask anyway. But they also wanted to ask him questions. Despite everything, he still felt distrustful, even as they had done nothing since the start but help him. Ignoring the anxiety that rushed through his veins once again, he nodded to accept the king’s offer.

“Very well,” Varian said, pushing his half-eaten food to the side, “then ask away.”


	4. Chapter 4

Anduin thought for a minute before deciding on the first question he wanted to ask.

“Twenty-seven years after what?”

“The opening of the dark portal," Khadgar answered.

Anduin just stared at him.

“Of course,” he gasped before muttering to himself: “What an idiot.” Then, aloud: “That would be year 619 of the King’s calendar.”

Anduin whistled. Calculating quickly, he realized he had jumped forty years in the future. It made his head spin.

“The dark portal?” he prompted.

Khadgar sighed, looking grim.

“Twenty-seven years ago, a portal was opened on Azeroth by the powerful demon Sargeras. Through it came the horde, a blood thirsty army of sentient beasts we now know to be Orcs. They tried invading our world and we fought back. The orcs have now settled in Kalimdor, a continent to the west, but the alliance and the horde have been at war since.”

Anduin felt like he'd just been given a history lesson about something he should've known but didn't.

“The alliance?” he asked, brow furrowing.

“The coming together of multiple races and kingdoms to fight against the horde - humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes…”

Anduin snorted in disbelief. Khadgar smiled wryly.

“Yes, an unlikely union, isn’t it… but against enemies as powerful as the Horde or the Legion or the Scourge, it is the only reason why Stormwind still stands today.”

Anduin nodded pensively. He turned towards Varian, who was watching him carefully. Because fair was fair, Anduin took this opportunity to spot the differences between the father and the son. In fact, now that he was closer, Anduin realized Varian looked almost nothing like Llane, but there was still no mistaking that he was his son. However, in the shape of his eyes and the slope of his nose, Anduin recognized his sister. 

They stared at each other like this, silently communicating, for long minutes before Anduin spoke up.

"You named him after me," he said quietly.

Varian's gaze wavered and eventually fell onto the table.

"Yes," he answered simply.

"You must have held me in deep esteem to name your very own son after me."

"Yes," Varian answered, crossing Anduin's gaze once again. 

He stared at him intensely and openly, almost with deference. It made Anduin uneasy as if he didn't deserve anyone to regard him with such respect. In a way, he knew he didn't, and perhaps it was at that moment that it truly hit him: he wasn't the man they saw when they looked at him. And they knew that too, but it showed in each of their gestures how hard it was for them to see past the resemblance. Anduin didn't doubt for an instant that the man they had known had been a great man, deserving of the respect and trust he had so evidently inspired in his peers. With a pang of guilt, Anduin knew he would never deserve half the admiration his alter ego commanded.

Anduin cleared his throat, breaking eye contact with the king.

The King...

Llane's face flashed in his mind, distorted with fury and terror. His voice filled his mind as he had shouted, _Anduin!_ At once, he felt the heat of flames and the burning smoke filling his lungs.

Anduin blinked. He shakily reached for his glass, letting the wine slide down his throat and bring him back to the present. When he raised his gaze again, he saw both men staring at him curiously. He realized at once that he must have remained silent for longer than what could be considered wistful thinking. He swallowed and took a deep breath, knowing he had to ask even when he knew he would not like the answer.

"How did Llane die?"

Varian's mouth fell open for a split second and he quickly regained his composure, his face hardening into practiced detachment.

"He was betrayed," Varian answered flatly. "Assassinated. It was during the First War against the Horde."

"Betrayed?"

Khadgar shook his head.

"We don't know," he said forcefully.

He cut a disapproving glance at Varian, who ignored him. Khadgar sighed.

"But Anduin believed that too. We had befriended an Orc, a woman, who was treated by the others as a slave. She helped us in defeating the warlock that had brought the Horde to Azeroth, obeying Sargeras's orders. But she... she stabbed Llane during a battle and rejoined the Orcs' ranks. We never were able to contact her again... and we were never able to understand what exactly had happened that day. Garona, the Orc, disappeared years ago. I have no idea whether she's even still alive." A sad look fleeted across Khadgar's face. "We trusted her. And it seemed like she had betrayed us. But we will never know for sure."

An uncomfortable silence fell on the room, with Varian still as impassive and Khadgar, looking so very tired and ten years older than Anduin guessed he was. In this moment, he felt impossibly out of place, and it was more than simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He truly had no place here, bursting into these two men's lives, obviously bringing up some unpleasant memories for the both of them, and forcing them to relive their past. He felt sickened at himself and his curiosity, and yet he couldn't help but think he had some right to know. These people, even if they weren't those he knew, were still his friends. And so, pushing back against the guilt and fear, Anduin kept on.

"What about Medivh?"

The question made Khadgar start violently. Varian turned on his seat, observing the mage with open curiosity. Anduin looked between the two of them guardedly.

Instead of answering his question, however, Khadgar squinted at him, mouth set in a deep frown.

"What's the last you've seen of Medivh?" he asked him.

Anduin didn't bother hiding his confusion and he used it to conceal his discomfort.

"Right before I..." Anduin stopped himself, frowning. He swiped his sweaty hands on his thighs. Then, he said: "I saw him today," he said, despite his notion of _today_ being seriously skewed.

Khadgar hummed. "Awake, then," he commented. Anduin shook his head confusedly and Khadgar snorted. "Interesting."

Varian himself had turned to look at Anduin once more. Anduin shifted under the scrutiny and wondered if he could perhaps look more obviously uncomfortable. He bit the inside of his lip, trying to regain a semblance of composure.

"Medivh betrayed us," Khadgar said darkly. Anduin looked up, shock and surprise writing themselves clear as day on his features. "He was corrupted by Sargeras and helped the warlock Gul'dan into opening the portal, condemning Azeroth to years of war and suffering and conflict... I killed him," he stated, "with your help."

Anduin gaped. "...Medivh?" he breathed out.

Khadgar smiled mirthlessly. 

"If you go back," he stopped and corrected himself: " _when_ you go back... It's already too late. The demon took advantage of Medivh's weakness during his coma to corrupt his thoughts."

Anduin's breath had started quickening and he was desperately trying to keep it under control. The thought of his friend, one of his best friends, being behind such a plan to destroy the world they loved, the world that, as Guardian, he was charged with protecting... It tore something in him in the most painful way. Suddenly a terrible thought offered itself to Anduin and he felt his breath get caught in his throat.

"What about Taria?" he asked, ignoring the surge of guilt he felt at not having asked earlier. He tried to tamper the panic down by telling himself that his Taria was safe and alive in Stormwind, but it did little to actually help.

A momentary pain twisted Khadgar's and Varian's faces simultaneously. Anduin's heart broke cleanly in half and he felt all his remaining energy leave him. He slumped in his chair, the adrenaline-filled last hours finally catching up with him. He was exhausted, and on the brink of another panic attack.

"I'm so sorry, Anduin," Khadgar whispered, and the worst was that he meant it.

One loud sob escaped Anduin's throat and he was out of the chair and through the door in seconds. He heard Khadgar call his name from behind him but he couldn't stop, couldn't breathe, couldn't even see where he was going.

Khadgar had gotten up with Anduin and now was standing, dumbfounded, staring at the gaping doors. Varian heaved a long sigh, as he massaged his temples forcefully. He let his hand fall heavily on the table. Khadgar turned an anguished face towards him and Varian shot him an exasperated look.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked. "Go!"

Khadgar took off running.

Guards wordlessly indicated the way they had seen Anduin burst through and he thanked them breathlessly. They led him outside the keep, through the busy streets and into the Cathedral Square. Khadgar stopped, scanning the small crowd, when he got a suspicion. He ran towards the cathedral, going around it, and only slowed down as he passed the gates of the cemetery. Compared to the square, the cemetery was eerily empty. The big trees cast shadows over the tombs and paths.

Khadgar walked carefully across the cemetery, watching his step on the uneven cobble stones. He hadn't been here in years, always too afraid or too cowardly to come here. The last time, he remembered bitterly, was with Anduin, days before his death. They'd gone to visit Taria and Llane in the royal vault. Llane's remains were buried deep under their feet, but they hadn't had a body to bury for Taria. Still, when they had won back Stormwind, they had held a private funeral, nailed a plaque with her name on, a short epitaph. It had felt solemn and almost like a promise. _We will do better._

Khadgar knew Anduin visited the cemetery often. All his friends, comrades, family was buried there. He visited Cally's tomb every year on the anniversary of her death, and Callan's on his. He visited Llane’s at each military defeat, Taria’s every time he couldn't take the politics and diplomacy and endless scheming. Khadgar had never picked up the habit, but knew where to look whenever Anduin went missing for half a day. The only tomb Khadgar had taken to visit when it all got too much was Karazhan, where no one could hear him when he screamed.

Anduin was standing outside the vault, head hung low, arms straight at his sides. He was as still as a statue and was like a part of the scenery. If he hadn't known better, Khadgar would almost have believed him to be the real Anduin... their Anduin. 

Khadgar stopped a few steps behind him, keeping a respectful distance. He knew the warrior had noticed his presence but he wanted to give him the time and space he needed.

"Are they in there?" Anduin asked eventually.

Khadgar licked his lips. "Yeah."

Anduin nodded slowly. From where he stood, Khadgar couldn't make out his features, could only see the hard set of his shoulders, the strain in his arms from refraining to curl his hands into fists, the slight tremor in his left leg as if he was holding himself back from taking a step forward.

"I saw them this morning," Anduin whispered.

Khadgar almost didn't catch the words as they were carried by the wind in a rustle of leaves. His heart ached and he moved forward, coming to stand at Anduin's side. Together, they looked at the vault, its looming pediment, vine-laced columns, darkened iron doors. Khadgar was glad they were closed: inside, in a marble casket, were Anduin Lothar's remains.

"You will see them again," Khadgar promised.

Anduin turned his head sharply, and Khadgar felt his gaze burn right through him. He felt his cheek redden under the attention but paid it no mind. He knew what he was saying and he would stand by his words.

"I've said so earlier," he told the young man, "I will find a way to send you back."

He breathed in and out slowly, dimly enjoying the fresh night air, despite the shivers running down his spine. He had never liked the cemetery. 

"But Anduin, you must understand," Khadgar said, "that for us to help you, you need to help us. If we do not know how you arrived here, it will be impossible for us to send you back."

He turned to look at Anduin and found him still staring at him. His eyes were dark, conflicted, and Khadgar frowned. Anduin held his gaze, his expression unchanging and unreadable. He knew how untrustworthy the young man was, and had always been, and would remain until his death. He had had to fight to gain his trust the first time; he would again.

"What do you remember? Before you appeared here? Anything could help."

Anduin's mouth twitched. He dropped his gaze, staring at the ground.

"I don't know," he murmured, "I don't remember anything."

Khadgar held back a sigh, and frowned. "You said you'd seen Taria, and Medivh, today. This morning?"

Anduin nodded mutely.

"And after that?"

The other man lifted his head, tears shining in his eyes, and the strangest expression on his face.

"I don't know," he repeated harshly.

Khadgar locked his jaw, feeling his frustration rising. He was sure he was hiding something from him and Khadgar was determined to find out why. 

The sun had set and night was slowly falling upon Stormwind. The day had been long and eventful - they would both benefit from sleep, he decided. He doubted he would find sleep tonight, and resolved himself to a night of tossing and turning, before he would inevitably give up and head to the library. Tomorrow, he would go find Anduin and ask him again.

"Alright," he caved. "Let's get back to the keep. You must be exhausted."

At those words, Anduin seemed to sag, and he nodded again, slower. Khadgar put a hand on his shoulder, turning him around and steering him in the right direction. Stormwind never slept but nevertheless the streets had significantly emptied in just the short time they had spent in the cemetery. They walked slowly, Anduin stumbling dangerously, and Khadgar lost in bittersweet thought, as the heat from the other’s skin seeped gradually through his palm, warming his frozen bones.


	5. Chapter 5

Anduin breathed in deeply. He was surrounded by darkness, thick and inky, weighing down on him. He turned his head looking for something, anything, but it was just pitch black all around him. He couldn't hear or feel anything except a great weariness that seeped out from him, dissipating in the still air.

He longed to close his eyes but didn't know how. He felt disembodied, felt as if he was floating and sinking at the same time. All he was aware of was the deep breaths in and out of his lungs, filling him to the brink before being pushed out by this invisible pressure.

Each breath in was painful, too warm and leaving a bad taste behind. There was a weight on his side, pressing in close to him, breathing in time; calm, grounding. Anduin tried turning around to face it, but the space was too small. All he could see was a flash of green before being engulfed by blazing red.

And then he was falling.

He woke up with a cry. He laid still for a long while but the panic wouldn't recede. The moon cast great shadows in his room, illuminating the unfamiliar furniture. Anduin closed his eyes, hoping to block out by that gesture both the foreign view and the remnants of his nightmare. More than a dream, it had been a memory, fighting to reach the surface of his consciousness.

He hadn't been totally honest with Khadgar and the King, whom he still had trouble believing was his nephew Varian. He’d said he remembered nothing of how he managed to find himself misplaced in time. That hadn’t been quite true: he remembered bits and pieces of the events that had led to him appearing in the throne room... forty years later. 

But every time he so much tried as to focus on the memories, they escaped him, gone in smokes. It was like trying to catch a shadow, almost just out of reach.

And still the memory haunted him. The stench of smoke, the heat of fire coming in from all around him. And Medivh and Llane’s faces, distorted with fear, as he reached and…

Anduin gave up.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting up. Dragging a hand down his face, he groaned loudly, the sound strangely muted by the surrounding silence of the night. He stood up and walked to the window, leaning in. The moonlight reflected on the white mountaintops, painting them blue. The wind tasted of seasalt and soot. Deep below the ground, something rumbled.

There was virtually nothing to see that Anduin did not know, had not watched countless of times, either alone or deep in conversation with his friends. He had grown up in Stormwind Keep, after all, his father Captain of the King’s Guard under Adamant III. The mountaintops had been his one and only view for many years. Elwynn Forest had been mostly safe, and Anduin could recall a few outings into the forest to visit the villages with his father, but the conflict with the Trolls had the adults on edge. It was during that time that Anduin had gotten so close to the prince and then, after that fateful meeting at the Darkmoon Faire, with Medivh.

Anduin felt suddenly overcome by sadness as he recalled his two best friends. The mage Khadgar had been kind enough to try and reassure him, after telling him of his friends’ demise in this strange world, by saying that, in Anduin’s world, they were still alive and well. But Anduin could not be so sure. Even if they had somehow survived, when would he see them again? What if he never remembered the exact circumstances of his displacement and could never find a way back? Would he just be stuck in this place for the rest of his life, unable to return to his own time? 

Anduin quickly put a stop to this train of thought. It did not do to dwell on the hypothetical.

He turned around, staring at the bed. He thought about going back to sleep but realized he would not be able to. With a resigned sigh, he walked to the door, opening it carefully so as not to make any noise.

He half expected his door to be guarded but the corridor was completely empty. The King - Varian, he thought bemusedly - really did trust him. 

It was a strange comfort, that he had been shown kindness and faith even if circumstances were clearly against him. He might not remember what exactly had happened yesterday, but he knew one thing: he hadn’t planned it at all. He was still full to the brink with the surprise and terror he had felt moments before he felt himself be pulled inside out and suddenly realized he was lying on a cold, hard floor with weapons pointed at his face.

Lothar wondered if anyone back then was worried about him, if they were searching for him. He wondered, if he managed to go back, if he could teleport right back to the moment he had disappeared, and make it seem as if he had never left at all.

Making his way through the Keep in the silence of the night, Anduin noticed all the things that hadn’t changed, and all the things that had. Despite the differences, it was really hard to believe that forty years had passed between the Keep Anduin had walked through just a few days ago and the one he was exploring now. It made him feel displaced, apart from reality - as if he was just a ghost drifting through the halls.

There was light filtering from under the library’s doors. It was dim but impossible to miss. It was well into the night, the only people awake the rare guard Anduin has spotted at strategic places. There shouldn’t be any candle still lit in the library. It was a serious fire hazard if someone had left candles burning unattended.

Anduin pushed the doors carefully but they opened without a sound. Someone was keeping them well-oiled. He heard the sound of paper rustling and the tell-tale noise of a quill scratching at parchment. The library was dark, the only light coming from behind high bookcases, currently hidden from Anduin’s view. He walked soundlessly, coming to a stop right before he could be noticed by whoever it was working at the table.

A man was leaning over a heavy book, scribbling on a seemingly endless piece of parchment. It pooled on the floor, blackened with ink. His head was down, face hidden by unkempt silver hair. Still, Anduin recognized his clothes: _Khadgar _.__

__Anduin took advantage of his hiding place to observe the mage. His reaction when he had first seen Anduin in the prison had been one of anger, quickly followed by a lack of understanding that morphed into anguish as soon as the reality of Anduin’s identity had hit. He had said he knew Anduin, and it made him wonder whether he would ever meet Khadgar’s alter ego in his world._ _

__Watching him work, Anduin became too curious to stay hidden longer._ _

__“What are you doing?” he asked._ _

__Khadgar started, his quill breaking under the sudden pressure, and ink pooled in a dark, large spot on the parchment. Anduin winced._ _

__“Anduin!” Khadgar whispered loudly. “You scared me.”_ _

__“I’m sorry,” Anduin said, whispering also. He didn’t know whether they were keeping quiet so as not to wake anyone, or simply because the silence surrounding them compelled them to. “I couldn’t sleep,” he felt the need to explain then._ _

__Khadgar stared at him with an unreadable look on his face. Eventually, his gaze wavered, and he dropped it to the book. It seemed Anduin had pulled him out of a deep state of focus and he was having trouble connecting back with reality. Anduin could understand that._ _

__“Sit,” Khadgar gestured to the chair opposite to him._ _

__Anduin did as told and sank into the chair. He tried reading the book upside down but quickly realized it wasn’t written in any language he knew._ _

__“What is all this?” he let his curiosity get the better of him._ _

__Khadgar sighed and massaged the skin around his eyes, leaning backwards in his own chair._ _

__“Research. Chiefly, time travel accounts, spells, theories… myths,” Khadgar sneered, closing the book sharply. A cloud of dust rose from the pages, orange in the glow of the candles._ _

__Anduin’s breath hitched._ _

__“You’re really trying to help me,” he said._ _

__Khadgar stared at him bemusedly._ _

__“Of course. I gave you my word.” He sighed again. “But it is pointless. None of these texts hold any basis in reality. They’re merely legends!”_ _

__The candle flickered, attracting Anduin’s gaze. It settled once more, burning high and bright, the wax sliding slowly down the stick. The space behind it was the deepest black, shadows and forms moving mindlessly. It drew Anduin in and a memory solidified in the glow of the candle._ _

__A high ceiling, so high it disappeared in the darkness. Golden glints on yellow walls, the smell of warmth, the crackle of numerous torches. A low, guttural sound, coming in and out of earshot. A loud yet controlled breathing. His own? No, someone is there. He tries to move his head but he is stuck. His heart is beating fast._ _

__A hand on his shoulder. Anduin gasped._ _

__“Anduin,” he heard the urgent tone in the other man’s voice, “what happened?”_ _

__He greedily breathed in a gulp of fresh air, chasing the heavy damp feeling that had settled in his lungs. He shivered and became aware of worried blue eyes looking at him._ _

__Khadgar. Stormwind. The library._ _

___Safe._ _ _

__“I don’t know,” he answered._ _

__His mind was already clearing despite his efforts to cling to the memory. It was drifting out of grasp, slowly returning to the void. Anduin closed his eyes and swore._ _

__When he opened them again, Khadgar was still watching him closely, worry etched in his features._ _

__“I’m just tired,” Anduin lied._ _

__Khadgar nodded slowly. “I’ll walk you back.”_ _

__They left the library without a single word added. Khadgar blew out most the candles, only keeping one to make their way through the corridors. As they walked past the interior gardens, Anduin faltered. He could see the tiniest bit of sky overhead, already lightening in the early dawn._ _

__It seemed so simple, so natural a phenomenon, that it cleared his mind of all the fear and frustration that had been plaguing him. In this moment, he felt at peace, watching the stars faint and the day begin._ _

__“Anduin,” he heard._ _

__He turned his head, catching sight of Khadgar waiting for him, the candle reduced to a single bright spot in the darkness of the corridor. It sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine, the kind that leaves you frozen to your bones. Anduin bit his lip and hurried to catch up._ _

__Khadgar stopped him with a hand on his elbow right as they reached his door._ _

__“Wait,” he whispered. “Anduin… you must understand that anything, _anything_ you can tell us could help. Do you not remember anything at all?”_ _

__His voice was insistent, eyes searching Anduin’s face._ _

__Anduin shook his head, frowning. “I’m sorry. I don’t-”_ _

__Khadgar sighed, and let him go. “It’s alright,” he said, obviously trying not to let his disappointment show. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk more later.”_ _

__“Yeah,” Anduin breathed out._ _

__Khadgar nodded before turning around and walking away. Just as he was about to turn the corner, he turned back around, and saw Anduin standing by his door, watching him. Khadgar’s gaze hardened momentarily, as the familiarity of the scene washed over him violently. He consciously softened his gaze and offered the young man a smile. Anduin did not react._ _

__Khadgar reached his room and shut his door behind him. He felt the exhaustion settle in his bones and he tiredly removed his clothes. He slipped under the cover with a relieved groan and fell asleep immediately._ _

__It felt like merely moments later that he was rudely woken up by rapid knocking._ _

__He jumped out of bed, reflexes honed by years of endless war. He grabbed his robe and wrapped it hurriedly around his waist. He pulled the door open, blinking at the flustered guard who snapped to salute him._ _

__“Archmage Khadgar, sir- your guest is gone!”_ _


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi

Khadgar dressed quickly, forgoing his outer layers and only bothering with his leather vest. When he came out of his room, he found the soldier rapidly talking with another in whispers.

“When did you realize?” Khadgar asked, interrupting the other two.

Only one glance out the window had informed him that it was barely dawn.

“Only now, sir,” the soldier answered. “I came to take my shift guarding the door, looked inside and the room was empty.”

Khadgar cursed as he busied himself with his shoelaces.

“Has no one seen where he’s gone?”

The soldier turned towards her comrade and they exchanged a few more whispered sentences.

“A man was seen exiting the city, sir. That’s all we know.”

She looked sincerely sorry but Khadgar felt the anger boiling in his veins.

“What’s even the point of guarding the door if he managed to just get past you?” he seethed.

“That’s the thing, sir- he didn’t. No one has entered or exited the Keep since sundown.”

Khadgar closed his eyes, reigning in his frustration. As much as he wanted to take it out on the guards, he knew that blaming people now was not going to help much in finding Lothar again. He would blame them later, once Lothar was safe and back in the Keep.

“Was the window open?” he asked, voice laced with murderous irony.

The two guards gaped at him then exchanged one guilty look.

Khadgar growled and pushed past them. Rushing down the corridor, he ordered them:

“Gather a party and look for him! He’s out of the city: search the towns, the forest. He cannot be far!”

The city was only starting to wake up. The streets were still dark as the sun struggled to get past the mountains. 

Khadgar hurried through the city, trying to think of what places Lothar might have gone to. His disappearance surprised him. Although he understood that the young man was scared and feeling lost, he had thought he had managed to make him feel at least a little bit safe in Stormwind. But if he had decided to leave, then Khadgar had failed.

Even if it did sadden him, it mostly annoyed him. Khadgar knew Lothar was a stubborn and distrustful man. It had taken him a long time to get him to trust him the first time they met, Lothar thinking he was just a stupid and reckless teenager. More often than once, Khadgar wondered if, when he saw him, Lothar didn’t see his own son in him. Even once Khadgar had proved his worth to him, he knew Lothar would never see him as a capable adult whom he could rely on. But when Callan died, and Llane and Medivh died, and Garona betrayed them, Lothar was broken, only a shadow of himself. He couldn’t let himself go, having the kingdom and the Alliance to lead. Taria’s death during the siege of Stormwind had been the last straw. 

Khadgar spent many evenings taking care of Lothar as he tried his best to drink himself to oblivion. At some point, and one drink leading to another, their relationship, based on need and desperation and loneliness, had slowly evolved into something more meaningful. They had never admitted it to each other, but they had loved one another. And then Anduin had died.

Khadgar felt the familiar pain awakening again, deep in his chest. He had grown used to it, had learnt to live with it and even appreciate it, as one of the last things that he had left of the man he had cared about so much. This time, however, the pain was accompanied by another, older feeling that Khadgar knew just as well – it had just been a long time since he had last felt it towards Anduin: anger.

He had been so angry at Anduin after the battle at Blackrock. He couldn’t believe he had gotten himself killed so soon, so foolishly, and so… far away from _him._ There had been no time to grieve, not when Varian was so alone and so young, trusted with the command of both Stormwind and the Alliance, not when the portal was still open and the Horde and the Legion were slowly taking over Azeroth, not when the Lich King awoke.

And now, Anduin Lothar had somehow managed to find his way back into Khadgar’s life – alive. The shock had not yet worn off and he was already missing, already his absence was like a freshly opened wound in Khadgar’s side, bleeding and hurting like it first did, before time had made the loss bearable. Khadgar hated himself for it. And he hated Anduin, because for years he had been unable to breathe properly anytime he remembered him, his voice, his touch, his smile. He had done the only thing he could do: fight with all he had, go against his enemies without fearing death because, inside, hidden and denied more or less successfully, Khadgar had wanted to die.

There was always something to do, however, someone to help, to second, to save. Khadgar had travelled the world looking for a purpose – the universe, really. Eventually, somewhere between Stormwind and the Outlands, he had forgotten.

Forgotten about Anduin’s smile, the small, honest one that would grace his lips when he woke in the middle of the night to find Khadgar reading at the desk, wearing only pants because he could not have been bothered to search for his shirt, and he would kiss his neck and Khadgar would not tear his gaze away from the page, only reached behind him with one hand and squeezed his forearm just to feel him here. Forgotten the sad look in his eyes, the one that never quite got away, no matter the time or place, no matter who was looking, and what they were doing. Forgotten the exact way he would say Khadgar’s name that would take his breath away every single time without fail. Forgotten about Anduin, in all but name and a tiny flicker of emotion and a memory of a pain so great Khadgar could not even cry.

He had never cried. There had never been a right time.

Khadgar had met a great many deal of people after Anduin’s death and bore witness to a great many deaths. He had had to deal with being stranded in an unknown dying world surrounded by enemies, not knowing whether he would ever find his way back but knowing that it did not matter. He had shed tears, at the unfairness of it all, of life and death and hate. He had yelled, and worried, and loathed. He had lived, without Anduin. He had even felt guilty about it.

At this exact second, however, all of that did not matter much – it was but a distant thought at the back of Khadgar’s mind, unburied from the deep hole in which Khadgar had pushed it into so long ago. Instead, Khadgar let himself feel the anger rising, filling his lungs and his veins slowly, filling him with a life that was almost too much to bear. He let himself be angry at Anduin for the first time since the guilt had replaced the anger, and he let himself enjoy it.

There was only really one place Khadgar could imagine Anduin was right now. He was seen exiting the city, or at least someone was seen. There was every chance it had been Anduin, and the first stop out of Stormwind was a place Khadgar had often been to pick him up, drunk, sad, running his mouth. Khadgar had understood, back then, but that didn’t stop him from showing Anduin just how disappointed in him he was. This time would be different, but the similarities were too much for Khadgar not to feel twenty years younger as he made his way through Stormwind’s sleepy streets, heading for the gate.

***

The sound of the tavern was almost enough to drown out Anduin’s frenzied thoughts. Any stray word to get past that sound wall was immediately washed away in a gulp of beer. Anduin’s mind was getting wonderfully buzzed. He had no idea what time it was.

He remembered, vaguely, meeting Khadgar in the Keep’s library and walking back to the sleeping quarters with him. Just after he had gotten back to his own chambers, he had managed to climb down the wall from his bedroom window and made his way through the park to Stormwind’s gate. They had been opened and no one had tried to stop him. The road from Stormwind to Goldshire had not changed at all, and for a moment, Anduin could almost believe the events of the previous three day were only a dream and he was about to join Llane and Medivh for a drink.

Llane and Medivh weren’t, of course, waiting for them at the Lion’s Pride. Llane and Medivh were dead, and had been for a few years, or so he had been told, nevermind the fact he had just seen them just this morning. The trouble was, Anduin could not quite remember how he had gotten to where he was now. Which was, apparently, the future, although that was hard to believe, but there wasn’t much else Anduin could do.

He didn’t have a plan. He had stared for a couple of minutes at the room he had been given, at the disturbed bed, the white walls, before the intense need for a drink had overwhelmed him and he had made his decision. He could not stay in here, could not wait for the morning for more questions to which he had no answer to. He knew the mage Khadgar was only trying to help, even believed him in his earnestness and readiness to find a way to help him. It scared him. He had no idea where he was, kept seeing shadows out of the corner of his eyes and believe it were Llane and Anduin, hiding, ready to jump out and let him know how this was all a prank. A mindless joke. A dream.

He wished he could wake up. He wished he could know the answers to Khadgar’s questions. But he couldn’t and the only thing he did know was that he couldn’t stay here in Stormwind, surrounded by these too familiar halls and Khadgar’s helpfulness and veiled hurt as he regarded him, silent and thoughtful. He had to get away.

So, as in any other similar situation in which he could feel his control and sanity slowly slipping away from him, Anduin had pushed into the tavern’s bright and raucous atmosphere, sat himself at a table and hollered for some mead, and now here he was. A couple of strangers had tried talking to him but upon being ignored for long enough, had given up on that. The Lion’s Pride Inn hadn’t changed much, in however many years that mage had said it had been. There were considerably more half naked people around but Anduin could deal with that. There were a couple of strangely looking folks, with too many horns and skin too blue, but Anduin had always been told it was rude to stare, and so he gazed into his beer and let the world fade to nothingness around him.

He had no idea how much he had to drink. He must have dozed off at some point, into a dreamless, restless sleep from which he was suddenly awoken by a clatter of voices and heavy footsteps heading straight from him. A remnant of warrior reflexes ran through him, making him stumble to his feet as fast as he could, trying not to fall backwards, and blinking in the general direction of whoever dared interrupt his nap.

“It’s alright,” he heard, “I’ll take care of him from now on.”

There was a low grumbling, which Anduin was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to understand a thing of. The light was too bright and he was left squinting at the man – it was a man, based on his voice – who was now standing in front of him.

There was a long silence, which Anduin took advantage of to wake up more, before the slightly-less-blurry-by-the-second man sighed and sat down at the table Anduin had been sat before.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said.

Anduin blinked and finally caught a clear glance of who was talking. Khadgar looked tired, like he hadn’t slept all night, which Anduin could believe.

“How’d you find me,” he asked, or tried to anyway. He didn’t think he succeeded.

Khadgar was looking at him with lips pressed tight, lines on his forehead from where his eyebrows sank and darkened his eyes and the circles underneath them. He held his hands clasped in front of him, elbows on the table. He was dressed only with a shirt and his pants underneath his vest. Anduin wondered whether he had been looking for him.

Khadgar sighed again and it released some of the tension from his shoulders.

“You always come here,” he said quietly.

Anduin blinked. He was getting lightheaded from standing but he wasn’t ready to admit it yet, so he stayed put.

“How do you know that,” he asked instead.

“I knew you, remember?” 

Anduin did not think he had ever seen a man look this tired, except maybe Varian, but at least his friend had looked happy. Khadgar only looked tired.

“Right,” Anduin said. “Before I died.”

His head was getting worse, light from lack of food and sleep and heavy from the hangover that he could feel settling right in the center of his stomach.

A shadow of _something_ crossed Khadgar’s face, something Anduin wasn’t quite sure he recognized but he blinked and it was gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated anger.

Khadgar’s hands slammed on the table, making Anduin jump and his vision swim. He slowly sat back down, not caring what it looked like. He figured they would be here a while yet, although he had expected, at first, to be dragged out of here and locked in the barracks again.

“What were you thinking?” Khadgar asked, low and quiet, obviously restraining himself. “Going off in the middle of the night and coming here? To drink yourself numb?”

Khadgar sounded as much disbelieving as he looked as if it was the easiest thing to believe. Anduin recalled that he had said he always used to come here. He did not know whether to feel comforted by the thought he would still have that habit in twenty years, or bitterly disappointed in himself. Khadgar was the latter.

“I didn’t think I-“

“No,” Khadgar interrupted him. “You _didn’t_ think. This isn’t the world you know, Anduin. We’re at war and anything could have happened to you, and I won’t be any help to you if you’re bleeding to death in a ditch.”

Anduin gaped. His brain was running in circles trying to come up with anything to say.

And then his stomach growled.

He barely had time to catch Khadgar’s face morphing into surprise before it hit the table. The loud thump wasn’t enough to cover the noise of Anduin’s stomach growling again. There was a long silence. Anduin started to worry and was about to reach out towards Khadgar when a sound made him stop.

Khadgar was laughing. Breathlessly, like someone who is trying not to cry, his shoulders shaking with every choked-out laugh, uncontrollably, crazily. Anduin stared. Khadgar calmed down slowly and when he raised his head, his expression was unreadable. He held Anduin’s gaze for a few seconds.

Finally he stood up, brushed his clothes needlessly, and made for the door. The tavern was entirely empty, whoever Khadgar had been speaking to earlier having disappeared in a back room somewhere. His words drifted to where Anduin was still sitting, dumbfounded, hungover, lost.

“Come one. Let’s get you something to eat. And then I’ll chew you out.”

Anduin let out a small chuckle. He followed Khadgar out.


	7. Chapter 7

Khadgar put down some bread and cheese in front of him and gestured for him to start eating. Anduin didn’t wait to be told twice and dug in, filling his desperate stomach with some much-needed food. It was frugal, but as far as Anduin was concerned, it tasted divine. 

Khadgar didn’t eat. Anduin didn’t mention it, because it was none of his business, but he had noticed how the older man would rather push the food around his plate than eat it before. He had this look about him, a little too shallow, a little too thin at the edges, like a man who ate so he could get through the day but didn’t really want to. Anduin understood. Khadgar also had this look of a man that had seen too much, done too much. Varian had it too, which only served to emphasize his resemblance with Llane. It almost made Anduin stop doubting he really had travelled forty years into the future.

Anduin was so hungry that he didn’t even stop to think about the fact his stomach was probably upset after his night of heavy drinking. When the nausea set in, it was too late and he was left feeling quite uncomfortable, sitting at a table in the Keep’s deserted kitchen. It was still early although Anduin had absolutely no idea what time it actually was.

He should have expected the hangover. But when he had started drinking, he could not have cared less about the consequences. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had hoped that the haziness and the vertigo would last forever and take him away and he would never come back to this strange reality that he had entered yesterday. He should have known better, and perhaps if he had he would have been more careful. As it was, he regretted the last four drinks he had gulped down and maybe even the ones that came before those. The archmage had been kind enough to give him a jug of water along with the food and Anduin swallowed about half of it in an effort to push the nausea down.

The last time he had ever gotten this drunk was only a few months ago, on Cally’s death ten-year anniversary. The rest of the year, he at least tried to be sober enough to take care of Call-

Anduin choked on the water. For a second, he couldn’t breathe and then he hacked up and spit water all over the table, and Khadgar jumped to his feet and rushed to his side but he already had his breathing back under control, heaving loudly as the panic receded.

He didn’t ask after Callan. Some part of him tried to rationalize about that by thinking that, if he was still alive, then the last thing he needed was for his dead father to come knocking at his door, and if he was dead- Anduin didn’t even want to think of that. But the truth was that he hadn’t thought – hadn’t even – but what if…– 

Khadgar laid a cautious hand on his shoulder and Anduin snapped back to the present. There was water all over the table and he winced.

“Oh Light, sorry…” he said as he grabbed a near-by towel and started drying the tabletop.

“It’s quite alright – are you okay?”

Anduin nodded distractedly, chasing the last dissident droplets. He kept wiping even once the rag was dripping wet and he just basically spread moisture all over instead of drying it. He faltered when Khadgar’s hand brushed against his and slowly covered it and he finally stopped when Khadgar squeezed.

“Anduin.”

Their gaze crossed. Khadgar’s was full of worry and kindness. Anduin looked away.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, sorry. Went down the wrong way,” he said, hiding his flustered blush with another cough.

“Okay,” Khadgar relented, his tone and the side glance he gave Anduin enough to make him understand how little he believed him.

But Anduin didn’t want to talk about it, and so he was grateful Khadgar didn’t push.

The mage sat back down across from him and Anduin sat up straight and put his joined hands on his knees. He was bracing himself and didn’t care for how obvious it was.

“So,” Khadgar started, “want to tell me why you eloped and tried to drink yourself to death?”

He immediately winced at his turn of phrase and looked almost apologetic but he didn’t say anything. Anduin couldn’t even blame him. It had crossed his mind – just keep drinking until you couldn’t wake up, and then it wouldn’t matter whether this was a dream or not… He didn’t think saying so would be a good idea, though.

“Not really,” he answered instead. 

He played with the crumbs scattered across the table to avoid having to look at the mage. He could hear the sigh that escaped him, however, and he couldn’t help but feel like a boy about to be scolded.

“Alright,” Khadgar said, and Anduin looked up sharply at that.

“Alright?” he repeated.

Khadgar’s smirk felt weirdly familiar, but before Anduin could place it, it was gone and replaced with a neutral expression.

“Yes,” he said. “Although, you really shouldn’t leave without anyone from now on. There is enough wine for you to drink in the Keep.”

Anduin gaped for a moment before he caught himself and quickly shut his mouth.

“You’re not angry at me?”

Khadgar sighed.

“I was, yes. But since you seem to have picked up on that already, I really don’t see the point in yelling at you now. Besides, what a waste of both energy and time it would be. I have more important things to do. You enjoy your breakfast,” he said with a smirk, “I’ll see you at lunch.”

Khadgar stood up, a picture of poise and dignity, nodded once at Anduin as a farewell, and left.

The door had not yet closed that Anduin found himself surrounded by darkness. 

He did not try to fight it. The urge was there, but he pushed the anxiety back, focusing on controlling his breathing. He knew this place. As his eyes adjusted, he could begin to see sharp angles and shadows. He was inside a building. The air felt thick and heavy around him, warmed by the fire he could hear crackling and filled to the brink with humidity, making it hard to breath. He wasn’t in Stormwind, not anymore.

The voices filled his ears all at once, as if something had been obstructing his hearing and it had suddenly disappeared. He couldn’t recognize the words in the rough speech. His heart rate picked up, a sudden rush as he realized he had to keep quiet. Something big was going on, he could feel it even if he couldn’t say what it was exactly.

He didn’t know where he was nor what he was hearing. The voices came in and out of focus, coming from under him. Along with them, shadows danced across the wall, flickering in the candlelight. Left, right, left, right, left, right, and on and on…

A rush of air on his cheek. He turned his face slowly. His gaze caught on white skin and blond hair. He met wide green eyes and a slightly opened mouth. He was breathing heavily, focusing so as not to make noise as he breathed in and out. 

He wanted to reach out, to touch with his fingertips just to make sure he was real. The urge felt strange and detached from him. He could not move his hand.

“Medivh,” he called, but he made no sound.

Black pupils grew and filled green irises before Anduin’s vision was filled with flames. The fire ate away at everything and the world fell into ashes. The flames danced all around him, reds and yellows and deep blues wavering at the border of his conscience. Anduin tried screaming but he was drowning in the silence. He fought one last time before the darkness pulled him under.

When he awoke, all he could hear was his own ragged breathing. The light of dawn had filled the room, casting soft shadows on the walls. Anduin carefully wiggled his toes and fingers and felt the sheet shift around him. Turning his head, he saw the mountain side rising seemingly endless through the open window. He shivered and wondered why he hadn’t closed it.

He sat up on his bed and winced as a sharp pain shot through his skull. He brought a hand to his forehead and felt around. He had a lump on his right temple but it didn’t seem to have bled. Confused, he tried to remember how he could have gotten it.

The door opened and he whipped his head around.

“Good, you’re awake,” the man who had just entered said.

He was wearing the white priest robes and his face was professionally neutral.

“Brother,” Anduin greeted bemusedly.

“I’m Brother Benjamin,” the priest introduced himself. “How are you feeling, Mr Lothar?”

“Um, fine, fine,” Anduin muttered.

Brother Benjamin eyed him doubtfully. Anduin cleared his throat and put his feet on the ground, set on getting up. As soon as he was upright, however, a powerful wave of dizziness made him stumble. In an instant, the priest was by his side, pushing him back down on the bed.

“Right,” he said as he pulled the sheet back to cover Anduin’s body. “Now, you need to stay in bed until I clear you, copy?”

Anduin frowned and nodded. He felt incredibly weak and he did not have the strength to fight.

“What happened?” he whispered.

Brother Benjamin pinched his lips tightly.

“You were found unconscious in the kitchens, Mr Lothar. You hurt your head on the way down. You had a seizure.”

Anduin’s eyes widened at the news.

“You were out of it for a couple of hours,” Brother Benjamin added, “and we’ve been keeping an eye on you. Follow my finger,” he ordered.

Anduin complied and Brother Benjamin seemed satisfied with the results.

“Do you remember what you were doing in the kitchens?”

Brow furrowing, Anduin searched his memory. It was blurry but he did remember speaking with the archmage, Medivh’s wide green eyes, the smell of burnt hay…

He blinked the memory away as he took a couple of deep breaths, calming himself down.

 _Not real,_ he reminded himself.

“Uhm, yeah,” he said, “I was with Archmage Khadgar.”

Brother Benjamin crooked an eyebrow. 

“Before dawn?”

Anduin could feel his cheeks burning.

“He, uh,” he coughed to hide his embarrassment, well aware it only made it more obvious, “he picked me up in Goldshire,” he muttered.

“You were drinking,” Brother Benjamin stated.

“I did drink, yes,” Anduin admitted, averting his eyes.

“Perhaps you should refrain from drinking for a while, Mr Lothar. You seem healthy now but passing out and seizing is not a good sign. Did you feel anything before fainting, any dizziness, blurred vision?”

“No,” Anduin answered.

“Alright. Well, all I can recommend is you take it easy for the day. Rest up, Mr Lothar, and if you feel weak still by tomorrow, you can find me at the cathedral. Or just call for me with one of the servants, they’ll fetch me. Good day.”

Anduin nodded at the priest’s already retreating back and belatedly remembered to return the farewell. 

He had passed out. How trivial of him. He remembered the dream he had had – or, rather than a dream, it had been a vision. Too real to be a dream, too hazy to be called truly a memory. It wasn’t the first time he had been invaded by thoughts of burning flames and guttural syllables echoing down hallways.

He winced again as his head ached suddenly. He was tired, he realized. Slipping down to a lying position, he turned his head to watch out the window. The mountain was covered in glistening snow and a bird flew in lazy circles. His heart slowed and his eyelids drooped as he watched. Before the sound of the door opening and closing and a chair being dragged to the side of the bed could register in his mind, he was asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is a mess

Khadgar had stayed by his bedside until dusk, watching him sleep. He had tried telling himself he was only keeping an eye on him should the seizure start again, but at some point during the night,he had started being honest with himself and openly stared at Anduin’s youthful face, spotting all the differences.

He had had to leave before he had woken up, to have a quick dinner with Varian during which he recounted the events of the previous night. When he had gone back up to Anduin's room, he had been told he had eaten and fallen back asleep already. Reassured, and figuring he should catch some sleep too, he had then headed for his own room.

In the morning, he had swung by Anduin's quarters again, only to be told that Anduin had headed to the training grounds first thing upon waking up. He thought it ill advised, considering he had passed out and had a seizure yesterday, but the guards all had shrugged and told him that he had headed out despite their comments. One of them had been dispatched to follow him wherever, which Khadgar appreciated. 

Deciding to leave Anduin be, Khadgar headed for the library to read some of the books he had been checking out two nights ago. The process was long and frustrating as he read through pages and pages of pseudo-science, magical theories, myths, or downright acid trips accounts, trying to find anything that might be of help.

It would help a lot if Anduin would accept to talk to him. Ever since the first day, it had been obvious that he was hiding something. More than once, he had spaced out and came to disoriented and, frankly, looking terrified. That last detail is what made Khadgar hold back on his questioning. He didn’t want to traumatize the young man further. He was certain that, given time, he would eventually open up to him. But for now, and with so little information, Khadgar found the situation very frustrating.

The book he was currently staring at was an account by a mage of his time spent in the company of the bronze dragons, masters of time. The dragons were notoriously difficult to track down and Khadgar had heard worrying rumors of disappearances and unrest. They were nothing more than rumors as the dragons, of any flight, prefered to deal with these things amongst themselves, and keep a layer of mystery shrouding them. Khadgar himself only had the most basic knowledge of the bronze dragonflight’s abilities. He knew they had been charged with protecting time. When it became clear who exactly was this man who had appeared in Stormwind’s throne room, Khadgar had half expected members of the bronze dragonflight to appear and take him away immediately. It seemed it wasn’t enough of a time anomaly to bother the bronze dragons. That, or they were too busy dealing with something else, which was worrying, to say the least.

In any case, conversing with any of the bronze dragons might prove useful. If one managed to find one of them, that was. Khadgar had never actually been to Tanaris, where the bronze dragonflight was said to have settled. It would be a long trip, but Khadgar had not yet exhausted all his other possibilities.

Khadgar sat back in his chair, heaving a loud sigh. The few other people in the library glanced at him curiously but quickly went back to their own research. The Stormwind Keep library was a relatively small space filled from floor to ceiling with books. All the walls were covered in bookshelves while the center of the room was occupied by the two long tables. The book collection was nothing extensive. Mostly, the place was used to store important documents one might want to have nearby to fact check their knowledge. But there were a few incongruous and interesting texts hiding besides _The Basics of Arcane_ and _History of Stormwind through the 5th century of the King’s Calendar_. 

Still, Khadgar doubted he would find anything of actual use in here. He got up, collected the few books he had been looking through and put them back in their spots. Even though he had known that finding anything interesting in the Stormwind Library was a long stretch, he still felt disappointed. And frustrated. However, Khadgar couldn’t quite ignore the sick elation that pumped in the back of his head.

Because every day he didn’t find a solution, was also one more day he got to spend with Anduin. A man he had thought lost forever, returned to him, safe, sound, younger than ever, with his secrets and mysteries to crack open, with his fears and worries to tend to. And Khadgar felt blessed. And he felt disgusted at himself for even letting himself think that this was anything like a blessing.

It was a nightmare, one that Anduin had to live through. Pulled away from everyone he loved, everything he held dear, and thrust into this twisted, unknown world that was his future - and what kind of future? What exactly could give hope to Anduin in this world? A world tainted, broken, torn open. Khadgar had done nothing but worsen Anduin’s desperation. He had nothing to offer but grief and terror and _loss_. Nothing to reassure Anduin that things would be okay.

And that was it, wasn’t it? Nothing was okay. Every day brought the same challenge of trying to get through the day without crumbling down under the weight of the guilt and the fear because one mistake irremediably led to another disaster, and Khadgar was tired. Tired of the deaths, and the wars, and the near-apocalypses. 

But Anduin, _this_ Anduin, this breathing, alive and strong Anduin knew nothing of all of this, and he didn’t deserve to know. He didn’t deserve to have it all dumped on him by strangers and have to figure it all out by himself. And so, Khadgar knew, it was his duty to find a way to send him back. Back to his own time, when Medivh, and Taria, and Llane, were still alive. It was his duty, and his privilege - his _only_ blessing - because he couldn’t save his Anduin when Doomhammer struck him down, but he could help this one. He could send him back, and hope, against all odds, that this time, he could and would do better.

Khadgar made his decision, leaving the Keep’s library and heading straight for the exit. He considered telling Varian where he was off to, then figured it wasn’t necessary. Varian was quite busy and didn’t need to be bothered. Besides, he wasn’t about to leave Stormwind. As he stepped out, he faltered momentarily as the sun blinded him. He had spent most of the morning in the windowless library and missed the fact today was a beautiful day. It was no wonder Anduin had wanted to go out and train. Khadgar also knew that 

But as he walked through Stormwind’s streets, he couldn't deny he was curious. He had always liked watching Anduin practice. His technique was honed by years of learning how to handle himself and his sword and then getting to use those skills on the battlefield. His every move was intentful, precise and thought through. It was a real delight to watch him perform.

When Khadgar had met Anduin, he was forty, exhausted by years of fighting against the Trolls at the borders and terrified by the newly arrived threat posed by the Orcs. Khadgar had once asked him why he spent so much time on the training grounds. Anduin said it reassured him, proved to him that he was still as skilled and reactive as he had been twenty years ago. It also brought back cherished memories, of sparring against Llane, of learning how to handle a sword from his own father and from King Adamant, when he could spare a moment. As he recounted these memories, Anduin would smile softly, a little pained and stiffly, torn between fondness and overwhelming grief. The sadness never quite left his eyes, those days.

The smell of heated sand was the first thing that hit Khadgar as he made his way unto the training grounds. It assaulted him and he felt as if the grains of sand went up his nose and down into his lungs, scratching and clawing their way in. It had been decades and by now, Khadgar had thought he would be used to it. Used to the way his throat closed up and his eyes teared up on instinct as the familiar smell invaded his lungs. He wasn’t used to it, he realized almost immediately, as the memories washed over him.

He had, however, quite the experience in fighting back against painful memories and he cleared his head irritatingly. As he drew closer, the sound of a blade repeatedly hitting a dummy reached him. Khadgar braced himself for the sight he knew awaited him.

Sure enough, Anduin was beating the hell out of a dummy, the training wooden sword arcing through the air over and over again as Anduin raised it to better send it down unto his target. He had stripped down to his shirt and pants, keeping his boots to protect the sole of his feet from the burning sand. His shirt was soaked through with sweat but he didn’t seem to mind. And why would he? This way, it was clear to anybody that walked past that he was strong and healthy and muscular and _attractive_.

Khadgar blinked. He wasn't unfamiliar with the feeling to the point of not recognizing it. His breath had quickened the moment he’d caught sight of Anduin, his palms had started sweating, and he had wanted nothing more than to look away and yet found himself unable to do so. It happened fairly often, still, that he would see someone and be able to tell that he was attracted to them. As much as he had tried to suppress it at times or as little time he had these days to do anything about it more than daydream, it still happened, and as such, made it undeniable: the sight of Anduin, sweating and out of breath from the effort, aroused him.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise. He was intimately aware of how attractive Anduin was to him. He had been drawn to the man from the very first time they met and he had done little, in the months that followed, to hide that fact, until they had both decided to act on that attraction. 

He wasn't enough of a fool to not admit that he had noticed that Anduin's charm wasn't something he had only acquired in his older years. Besides, he looked too much like his older self for khadgar's own forgotten feelings not to resurface again. But those had been feelings of grief and pain and sadness and _longing_ not... 

He was twenty years younger than him, for Light's sake. But then that had never stopped Anduin the first time around, had it…

No, Khadgar thought. He wasn't going to let this happen. He'd recognized the attraction, acknowledged it and now he was going to do what he was so good at doing: ignoring it.

Taking a deep breath, Khadgar started decidedly towards anduin. The plan had been to tempt him out of the training grounds and into the city, to show him around so he would feel less lost in this strange Stormwind. They could still do that, Khadgar thought.

The sound of his boots on the sand must have alerted the warrior because he stopped abusing the dummy and took a heavy step back. Breathing heavily, he raised the bottom of his shirt to wipe down his forehead, exposing his stomach, thin sheet of sweat glistening under the sun on finely defined muscles. Khadgar faltered.

When Anduin turned to look at him, his faint look of surprise was quickly replaced by barely contained glee, and when he called out his name in greeting, his voice was warm and welcoming.

Khadgar had already turned around and began walking away before the last syllable was out of Anduin's mouth. Fool, he was a fool, he kept saying in his head, berating himself for the simple fact that seeing Anduin's body so healthy and alive could do such things to his insides that he couldn't even face him afterwards.

"Khadgar!" He heard Anduin call behind him, worried and confused.

He didn't look back.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr.](https://aegwynnn.tumblr.com)


End file.
